


The Train Runs Over the Camel But Is Derailed By the Gnat

by zillah37 (visionshadows)



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Eating Disorders, F/M, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visionshadows/pseuds/zillah37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Chris fucks up, he does it big.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Train Runs Over the Camel But Is Derailed By the Gnat

 

Chris walked through his house in the dark, picking up various items of clothing and piling them into a laundry basket he carried under one arm. He couldn't fathom turning on the lights at this point. Besides, it was 3am. What kind of person turned on all the lights in a house at 3am just because he was scared in the dark?

Whatever kind of person that was, Chris wasn't that person. He kept picking up clothes, not caring if they were clean or dirty. He mixed silk with denim and red with white. He barely thought as he dumped all the clothes into his washing machine, adding too much detergent and a generous helping of bleach. He set the machine on hot and walked away.

The kitchen was dark and shadows crept around the corners, making Chris pause. For comfort, he opened the refrigerator and the light escaped into the room, proving once and for all that there were no monsters in the kitchen with him. He sat down in front of the open refrigerator, staring at the light and the empty shelves. He should buy some food, make breakfast.

Grocery stores were empty this time of night; brightly lit with harsh fluorescent lights that made it impossible for shadows to sneak up on him. He welcomed the sallow tone they gave his skin. Anything to keep the shadows away for a few more hours.

He wore a baseball cap over his shaved head, pulled low over his eyes as he wandered up and down the wide aisles. Breakfast food was easy; it was shopping for everything else he decided that he needed that made grocery shopping hard.

JC liked tofu, he thought, putting two packages in his cart before taking them back out and setting them on the shelf again. JC wasn't going to be at his house enough. He couldn't justify the tofu.

His cart slowly filled with food that reminded him of his friends and occasionally, something that reminded him of his childhood. He got a pound of the cheapest bologna possible even though he hated bologna. He would make sandwiches until the bologna was gone and force himself to eat every single one. The cheap white bread and American cheese just completed the picture of poverty.

Chris fingered a roasted chicken, tracing the plastic shell that covered the food. Lance used to each the roasted chickens all the time, complete with mashed potatoes and green beans because they reminded him of home. He put a chicken in his cart. He'd have a Lance meal later.

Britney's face stared at him from a tabloid proclaiming her reconciliation with Justin. He turned his head away and kept walking. It was true of course, but he didn't like to think about that. It made him feel even worse.

He stood in front of the frozen dinners, staring at his reflection in the glass. He had a scratch on his neck from fake nails that jumped out, angry and red proclaiming his infidelity. He opened the case, the cold air spilling out and over him. He shivered and began to load his cart with frozen dinners. He didn't care what kind they were. He ate them all and thought about cardboard as a meal alternative.

The cashier was fast and chatty as she swiped his purchases. Chris looked at the food piled on the counter and felt sick. He tossed a couple packages of Tums onto the pile.

He slipped the kid bagging his groceries a five, relishing in the confused expression as he pushed his cart out of the grocery store. There were hints of pink on the horizon, the impending morning threatening the night.

His home was still dark, but he opened all the curtains on the first floor, standing in the kitchen and welcoming the sun into his life. The shadows receded and he felt the tension slide from his body.

The frozen dinners didn't fit in the freezer so he cooked five of them, wrapping them and finding space in the refrigerator. He scrambled eggs, the pile of yellowish-white growing on the plate next to him until he ran out of eggs and moved onto hash browns, grating the potato himself. He made a loaf of toast and a pot of coffee.

Chris sat at the table, staring at the food and the other place setting. The shadows were finally gone and the sun was shining in the room, glinting off the linoleum and the burnished steel cabinets. He felt obscenely cold.

Britney slid into the seat across from him, her expression guarded. She sat hunched over, munching on a piece of toast. Chris could see bite marks on her neck that fit his mouth perfectly. His stomach roiled and he popped another Tums.

"Are you going to tell JC?" Her voice was hoarse and he instantly hated himself for getting carried away last night. He knew from experience that singers shouldn't deep throat.

"No," Chris said, his own voice just as hoarse. "Are you going to tell Justin?"

Britney looked at him, her eyes sad. She shook her head and spooned eggs on her plate. Chris watched her eat the entire plate and go back for more.

"Do you have any doughnuts?" asked Britney softly, her plate empty again. She would finish all the food; he knew that. Later, he would hand her a bottle of water and hold her hair as she threw it all up again.

Chris shook his head and stood up, pulling his coat back on. "I'll go get you some."

Britney gestured with one perfectly manicured fake nail at the long scratch on his neck. He wasn't sure if it was the same nail. Nails didn't match up as well as teeth. Forensic investigators didn't use nail marks to catch criminals.

Outside, the bright sun made him squint and pull his baseball cap down further, shielding his eyes. His hands still smelled like bleach and burned potatoes.

Tonight he would have a Lance dinner and call JC. He would pretend nothing happened with Britney and laugh about how drunk he got the night before. JC would stay quiet and let Chris dig himself deeper and deeper.

Then JC would hang up on him and he would know it was over because Britney told Justin and Justin told JC and Chris would drink a six pack of cheap beer and eat bologna sandwiches until he passed out.

Chris bought a dozen doughnuts and ate three on the way home. They tasted like cardboard and lipstick.  
  
---


End file.
